Gumamelas in lightest yellow
with stem bend to earth,
growing with young grass
against the harsh sun
come here with me
We'll look up to the sky, wink of crystal blue
through the cryptic shadows

You, apart have longed for water
while I wait
I trust
I live full of last things
and I know the thrilling roses, dying,
all its petals held stories hidden
from its blooming
but you
are not given
not even to the ground.

We are forever
in some sort of love never coming
only restrain
Gumamelas, die in summer
my heart shall be stilled
for not all that falls in summer is rain
not all that blooms are roses
not all of love is pain.

There are parts of this that sound completely like you - you like how in one glance I can see where you end and someone else's idea begins, but stay with me a bit - and those bits are beautiful. There are also parts of this that are like a near-sighted person glancing down at the farscape, and the vision goes from sharp clarity to muted blurs. Here's what I mean:

We'll look up to the sky, wink of crystal blue
through the cryptic shadows

Someone wise and dearly departed once told me that color descriptions should mean more to you, and should express you rather than describe the color your reader should picture from your words.

Crystals can be blue, so it's not wrong to use it, but it's like taxi-ing down a runway, bumped out of your seat and spilling your in-flight drink (that you illegally have). I'm told that the sky in the Philippines is unlike anywhere else in the world - pick a meaningful description to capture that in your piece.

Cryptic shadows are more suited to suspense novels than your wonderful poetry. I would further suggest not using the word "shadows" either, just because the full sun that Gumamelas need don't really suit itself to a shadowy scene.

An opinion to close out my critique. Your second stanza is the strongest and most ... you. End with "you". Switch the last and the second stanza. to me, it ends better that way.

Parting is such sweet sorrow being apart is like
Having the bandaid pulled off forever. I need to
Move to a land where love is eternal and green.
Where new memories are made and old memories are
Photos for friends on Facebook.
I know but thats how I feel reading this sweet poetry
Like I am a flower in want of water and the entire reservoir
Is held in your hands.
If I were a good critic I would bring up the juxtaposition of
Symbols the use of specific flowers and their seasons
Of Life and how this is used to blend depth and meaning
How you infuse your piece with extended life by the subtle
Relationships each new thought blends with the ones that
Went before but I am only a lazy viewer tonight who really
Needed to read this poem.